Is It Lonely Out There?
by SpartanEra
Summary: Nothing is like having a constant heart attack over someone you had only met though a mysterious communication device that randomly showed up at your door with nothing but your name on it. What has my life come to? Also available on Ao3. Same username and Title.
1. Chapter 1: It started on a Tuesday

I do not own lifeline and I do not profit from Lifeline. No copyright.

* * *

It was a Tuesday. I had just got home from class that afternoon to see a box upon the kitchen table. I remember my sister making a comment of how it arrived, "They just tossed it to the door." I was genuinely perplexed. I didn't remember ordering anything and the only labeling there was, had my name on it. Not even an address of the house nor a returned one.

The box itself wasn't even that big, maybe about the size of a standard text book. Its cardboard casing was crushed and broken with pieces of bubble wrap sticking out. The flaps on the sides of the box were closed with duct tape and seemed to be the only thing holding it together.

Deciding that there was no harm to it, I picked it up and was surprised how light it was. It could have just been filled with bubble wrap, or likely prank from my friends that as soon as I open it it's going to be like the snakes-in-a-can prank. That seemed more logical in my mind and I could see my friends doing something as stupid as this. But wouldn't they try to watch my reactions to get the most of it? Thinking that there were nearby, paranoia set in.

I headed to my room a hallway down from my kitchen. I dropped my backpack on the floor near my door, set the box on my bed and slid my curtain closed. I immediately felt silly. Why would they be stalking me like a creeper in the first place? Plus I would have seen them on my walk home if they were. My mind raced. Nothing made any sense.

My brows furrowed in confusion. Where in the world could this have come from? Should I even open it? Thoughts and questions were flying everywhere in my mind, too fast to be coherent if spoken. I didn't want to mess with it at this point. There was too much mystery and paranoia surrounding this small package. I wanted to be careful, I had seen and read too many things detailing the result of a mysterious package arriving at your door. From magical teleportation to explosions as soon as you open it.

My mind registered. Explosion.

My heart skipped a beat. I couldn't breathe properly. I slowly glanced at the innocent looking box on the corner of my bed. What if there really was a bomb of some kind in there? Killing myself and my family and maybe the homes next door as well depending on its strength. But what purpose would that serve? I did not fully understand the concept of death. There was no reason for me to because I was sheltered from it.

I was getting too paranoid. What reasons…? I couldn't finish that thought. There were reasons, perfectly logical reasons as to why someone would randomly send someone a box of explosions. Crazy Fanatics for one. Terrorists for another. And maniac cultists for last. But the question would be why? Why would I receive something like that? I don't think I did anything so upsetting and offensive enough to have someone to kill me. I didn't preach my religion. I didn't use racial slurs of any kind. Most of the time I offended myself to tell a joke.

Lack of logical evidence eased my mind a little, but I was still cautious. Didn't want to end up on the front line news. I, instead, decided to leave it be and keep an eye on it before I decide to do anything to it.

With that decided, I let out a breath that may as well have been a sigh and glanced around my room. It wasn't exactly roomy in normal standards and my bed took up most of the actual space of the room. Considering it was a Queen Size bed, I wasn't surprised. It didn't stop me from enjoying the big bed because it feels great to be able to just spread yourself out and lay down without having to share space. At the head of my bed against the far wall was a shelf like headboard that were filled with books and slowly spreading to the flat surface on top.

Behind me was my itty-bitty closet. To the right in the corner of the room there were about three shelves of books. I say three because the bottom one is not actually a shelf and more of a table with books lined on it. I had recently been able to afford books and I was over the moon for them, especially of how cheap I had gotten them. I even dedicated a shelf for all the really old books that I've found. (One is even from the late 1800s).

Next to the bookshelves was the window with the closed curtains, the wind lightly blowing it with the sunlight still shining through its thin fabric. To the left corner of the room was my dresser, knick-knacks piled on top. A few feet ahead was the door to my room that leads out into a hallway. It wasn't much in a way of a room, but it worked for my personality.

I had come to the decision to just ignore the mystery box, as I had come to call it. I didn't know exactly what I should do next and decided that school work was important enough to start doing it. But first, I thought, I could go with something to eat.

* * *

I had procrastinated, I have to admit. It wasn't until a few hours later that I returned to my room that I started on my 'important homework'. It didn't bother me that much and I was able to BS my way through the work if I needed to.

It wasn't until a while after the sun had come down and half an essay done that I paused a YouTube video to hear a faint pulsating sound nearby.

It started off low in pitch and slowly built up only to be cut off and start again. I sat on my bed for a moment trying to think what could be emitting that sound when I realized it was coming from the mystery box. I mentally panicked. Why is it making noises now?

 _"Incoming communication request."_

I jumped off my bed and practically flew across the room. What the hell was that!? First it pulsates, now it speaks? I brought my breathing under control and placed my hand upon my still racing heart. I stood in my safety corner starring at the box as if it was going to attack me. A minute passed and just when I thought I had just imagined it, it spoke again.

 _"Incoming communication request."_

There wasn't any descriptive sounds to say it was male or female, but it was clearly an automatic robot voice. But why would it be saying that? I cautiously moved back around my bed and insight of the package.

 _"Incoming communication request."_

I saw no harm in trying. At least it checks off another reason on it could be a bomb. In all reason it still might as well be but I had to see why it was making this specific sequence of sounds and sentence.

Grabbing a pair of scissors out of my drawer, I carefully cut away the thick duct tape surrounding the box. As soon as I got a good opening in the cardboard I tug away the quilt of bubble wrap out of the box and toss the useless covering aside. I was relieved that nothing tremendous happened and that I was still in one piece.

 _"Incoming communication request."_

It was definitely come from underneath all this bubble wrap. I cut away as much of the blasted bubble wrap as I could. They really wrapped this up all nice and snug, I thought to myself. Now down to the last leg of Bubble wrap did I see the glow of the device. It's screen shinning a deep blue. I tossed the now useless bubble wrap to the side with the cardboard box, focused on the piece of machinery in my hands.

It was like a big blocky phone, was my initial thought. But what did I expect when I didn't really know what I was holding. There weren't any buttons that I could see immediately and its lit screen seemed to take up the entire front side of the device. On the screen however what is really captured my attention.

 _{Incoming communication request. [Accept][Decline]}_

I didn't know what to do. Should I accept the call? It was sent to me specifically. But this was all too shaded and seemed something very secret government/ program style. I stood there in front of my bed considering my options.

 _"Incoming communication request."_

It sounded again. My eyes flickered back down to the screen. I sighed and shrugged. I thought why not? No regrets, and I tapped the Accept button. I just hope it doesn't come down to having "YOLO" placed on my tombstone as my final act.

 _"Connecting…"_ It spoke again, text rolling across the screen.

 _"Status: Good_

 _Connection: Good_

 _Speakers: Good_

 _Microphone: Good_

 _Speech to text protocol initiated._

 _Vocal aperture protocol initiated._

 _Link Activated."_

White Static burst from the speaker systems and I nearly dropped it. Where's the volume control on this thing?

 **"…ello? …nybody there?"** A distorted voice emitted from the speakers. This thing was going to make me die from a heart attack, I swear.

 **"… think… had… accident. Ple… help."**

There was a constant static noise coming through the speakers that made it hard to make out anything they were trying to say. From what I could gather, this person was calling for help. What was I supposed to do? This isn't exactly what you would call a normal situation.

 **"… an… you… me?"** I couldn't leave this alone, my heart wrenching at the idea of ignore this clearly distressed individual. I rolled the device around my hand. In my ignorance, I found three different buttons along the side and two different twist knob above them.

 **"I repeat: …an you …ead me?"**

I noticed the last button seemed to be longer than the other two with two lines protruding from the length of it to help with griping. Similar to a Walkie-Talkie only weirder and prototype looking. With no other option, I held the button down and said the first thing that came to mind, "Yes, but there's a ton of static."

I let go and waiting for a response to come out of the white noise. Then finally a voice came through,

 **"Let m… try …thing."** They heard me! I didn't know why this made me happy but I relished in the relief it gave me.

 **"…ive me …ew seconds…"**

The voice said again and then there was more heavy static. It felt like hours, straining to hear anything come out of the, now called Walkie, device when it suddenly cleared and a much clearly human voice emitted from the speakers.

 **"Any better?"**

"Yes," I replied, "It's much better now."

 **"I was able to get rid of the static by updating the software on my comm. Damn thing's been beeping since I woke up."** _Theirs too?_ I thought. **"For some reason, you're the only person I can reach- all the other frequencies are either dead or scrambled. I even had trouble getting a stable connection with you."**

It was only then did I notice the text on the screen filtering through matched exactly to what this person was telling me. What the hell now? This was like a cross between a phone and a Walkie system. What was this thing? Then I heard the voice speak again, did I fully pay attention.

 **"I guess this weather isn't helping. It's freezing cold, and the wind is blowing right through me…Probably because I'm not wearing any kind of coat…"**

 _Cold? It's the beginning of summer?_


	2. Chapter 2: The Beginning Friend

Sorry, this took me so long. I am already so done with this semester, it's not even funny anymore. Plus having to scroll back through my Lifeline content is a little bit of a hassle. But Oh Well, I'm lazy like that. Enjoy! Oh, and thank to those who have commented! They made my day. You guys are great. (You know who you are.)

I do not own lifeline and I do not profit from Lifeline. No copyright.

 **Chapter 2**

I decided to push that aside to more important matters, "If I may ask, who exactly you are?"

 **"** **I'm… uh…"**

They paused. Are they going to try lie? Why they be a need to lie? They could have had an already written script to go by if that was the case.

 **"** **I must've hit my head pretty hard… I can't remember anything. I mean, I know the basic things, but I can't even remember my name or even how I got here"**

"But-"

 **"** **Wait, I found something!"**

Sounded like they found treasure.

 **"** **There's a military patch on my jumpsuit! It says, ' '?" Well, I guess you can call me Adams, at least for now. I can't really say I remember much more."**

"That sounds like some kind of Amnesia. Maybe the 'V' stood for your first name?"

 **"** **I'm no medical expert, but it sounds plausible. But I think sticking to an actual name might help me more than speculation."**

How could they know if they was a medical expert or not if they couldn't even remember their own name? But still they continued, unaware of my inner monlgue.

 **"** **What a nightmare, huh? Stranded in an icy wasteland, struggling to stay warm, and only a stranger's voice to guide me."**

Guide them? "And why am I supposed to guide you?" My bows furrow in confusion. They wasn't serious, were they?

 **"** **Oh. Uh-I thought-."**

The voice came out even raspier than it was. They almost sounded chocked up. What was more important is that it sounded real. Then the words registered in my mind and regret filled my body.

"Oh, no no. Sorry. That was incredible rude of me. I didn't think-" And that's thing I didn't think anything else but the reasons of how and why all of this could be fake. But what if this was actually real? 100% Legit? I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

 **"** **Ah, it's okay."**

They took deep breath and lets it out slowly, the mic picks up it all.

 **"** **I'm still in shock. And you really are the only one who can help me make sense of"** they paused. **"… all this."**

I would imagine them taking a long look at their situation and seeing the absolute fear of the unknown set in.

 **"** **No pressure, of course."**

It wasn't much but I still found myself giving a small chuckle. They gave one back in return. They understood. There were no hard feelings, it was completely understandable. Thank God. "Are you injured?" I finally decide to ask, might as well be useful.

 **"** **You're right"** A puff of air is registered, **"Who knows what happened before I lost consciousness? I'm feeling completely numb, probably from lying in the snow. Although I'm feeling clumsy in this ridiculous jumpsuit. Give me a minute to check."**

There's a _clunk_ sound and then sounds of shuffling of cloth and the crunch of ice. In no time, they pick up the Walkie again.

 **"Well, I seem to be fine. I just feel a bit numb. Maybe it's a touch of frostbite, but nothing life-threatening. But I can't assume that, this could be trauma from an accident…"**

More sounds of the crunch of snow can be heard.

 **"** **Speaking of accidents… There's a wrecked snowmobile sticking out of the ice not far away from where I'm standing. That could explain how I got here in the first place."** A pause, **"There's also a banged-up briefcase nearby. Maybe it's mine? Still, they don't explain why I'm here."**

"And where is 'here' exactly?"

 **"** **Oh, great! This gets better…" they grunt out.**

 **"** What? What's wrong?" What could be worse then lost in the middle of cold-ass nowhere?

 **"** **I'm on a frozen lake!"**

I could almost imagine them throwing up their arms in frustration. I would have considered it comical if it wasn't also so depressing.

 **"** **The snowmobile is already halfway through the ice. It's only a matter of time before it sinks."**

"What about the brief case?" I asked.

 **"** **Doesn't look good either. I doubt its contents survived. But since, I've got no other options, I guess I should check them out. What do you think? Should I go for the briefcase or the sinking snowmobile?"**

I sit there in silence contemplating the options, "From what you've told me, it doesn't seem like a good idea to try and get the snowmobile out. How thick, or should I say thin, is the ice?"

 **"** **Hmm, good point. Let me see."**

I hear them shuffle over to where I would assume the snow vehicle would be. _Crack._

 **"** **Yeah, that's a no-go. Ice is already starting to crack like a spider web the closer I get."**

"To the briefcase!" I exaggerate the exclamation. I hear a chuckle in response to my silliness. It makes me crack a smile as well, feeling fairly accomplished.

 **"** **All right, 90's cartoon superhero. I'm gonna grab that briefcase"**

They chuckle again, this time I finally crack and give a bark of laughter as well. _We are getting along quite swell'_ , I thought to myself. The machine in my hand gives out a beep and I glance at the screen.

 **[Adams is busy]**

' _Helpful, but why?'_ It doesn't take Adams long to get to the briefcase.

 **"** **It doesn't look any better up close. The briefcase is bent from the crash."** They grunt again, " **And it's locked. Of course it is."** Now their frustrated again, **"But why? It's not like there are any bandits in this wasteland…"** Cloth Shuffling, **"Or, well, anyone. Oh? Wait a second! I found something interesting. The briefcase had some snow stuck to it. But then when I brushed it off, I saw a logo."**

"A logo? Like a corporation?"

 **"** **Could be, it's the same one on my jumpsuit! It's a globe with… I think a plane? And some letters: ALT? I guess it's an acronym? What does it stand for?"**

"Doesn't sound familiar to me. I can try look it up real quick. Maybe you can find something in the briefcase?" I suggest as I quickly jump on my bed and already have the Google search screen blinking at me.

 **"** **Sounds good… I'll see if I can open it. Give me a minute or two."** **[Adams is busy]**

As Adams does what they can with the briefcase, I quickly type in the letters "A-L-T" into the search engine. Not a second later the results are shown and from what I see is not helpful.

 _Alanine Aminotransferase (ALT) Test and Results?_

 _What is the function of the Alt key?_

 _And some kind of conference program called 'Altitude Summit' located in California._

"Not helpful," I voice.

 **"** **Here's the situation:"** Adams' voice comes through, **"There's no lock on the briefcase, per se… But there is a weird knob. I know, what a poetic description, right? But I heard a click when I moved it! The knob must be the locking mechanism. Maybe I have to turn it in the right sequence? I'm not guessing, though."** A sigh and another shuffle of snow, **"In case you haven't noticed, today isn't exactly my lucky day."**

"I understand, my friend. I wasn't expecting today to go the way it has either. But yours is most definitely considered 'not lucky'".

 **"** **Thanks for the vote of confidence."** They say with thick sarcasm. With the image of them rolling their eyes at me, I reply:

"You are very welcome." Feeling smug enough, I get back to business, "Okay, the lock sounds similar to your standard combination lock, just without the numbers?" I speculate.

 **"** **Makes sense. And no, there aren't any numbers that I can see."**

"Okay, so if I remember correctly, you first turn the knob right."

 **"** **I heard a clicking sound! We're on the right track!"**

I snort.

 **"** **What? Was it something I said?"**

"Did you mean to make it a pun?"

 **"** **What?"** Silence and then it dawns on them, **"Oh. Oh! Ha ha. Very mature."**

I couldn't help myself and have a moment to be amused at the unintentional pun.

 **"** **If you are quite done with being amused by your childlike humor, which way is it to turn now?"** I couldn't exactly be sure but their voice sounded amused by my own amusement.

I take a deep breath to settle my mind, "Alright. Sorry about that. Next is to turn it left."

 **"** **Okay, it clicked again. I think this might actually work."**

"That's good news. Now the last one is to turn it right again. It should then open. If not, I don't know." I could practically hear Adams hesitate. "Sorry" I mumble into the comm. Unit.

 **"** **No, no. It's not your fault. I think it's alright to be paranoid at this point."**

"Especially with all that's happened."

They chuckle, **"Yes, especially because of what's happened."** They take a deep breath, **"Alright, here goes."** I could hear the knob turning and then a click. I practically have the unit at my ear, my blood pounding. **"** **Yes!"** The sudden exclamation makes me jump back and drop the device on my bed. I hold a hand against my rapid heart, taking slow breaths. **"We did it!"** They laugh out joyously. **"I don't know why I'm so excited about opening a briefcase. Maybe because it's the first thing to go right so far…"** A puff of air passes the microphone, **"I know."** They say in defeat. My inner child takes glee from this as they continue, **"Let me see… There's food inside!"**

"That's good!" I heard a growl, "what was that?"

 **"** **Oh, t-that was me."** They stutter. **"I didn't realize how hungry I was."**

"Take a few then. You're gonna need your energy." I sympathized with them.

 **"** **Thanks. Back in a bit."** **[Adams is chowing down]**

 _What the hell?_


	3. Chapter 3: Can You Not?

Chapter Text

As Adams was chowing down on his meager meal, I decided to try and dig deeper into who the hell ALT were. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't a hacker or anything of the sort that would help me get into places I wasn't supposed to. Unsatisfied, I wasn't able to find anything concrete enough to pinpoint it to the specific ALT as a company or corporation.

 **"Yuck! That food was…disgustingly tasteless. It wasn't much to begin with. Beef jerky isn't exactly mouth-watering…"**

"It's food."

 **"But it tasted so bland! Either there's something wrong with it, or there's something wrong with my taste buds."**

"Well, isn't that how ration bars or MRE's traditionally known for?" I question.

They paused.

 **"Point. But at least I had all this snow to wash it down with."**

Before I could think of a response, they quickly added:

 **"And before you ask no, I didn't eat any yellow snow."**

"Ha! I wasn't going to ask that, but good of you to check!" Was it a good or a bad thing they are picking up on my quirks?

 **"Thanks, I like to be thorough. Anyways, now that I'm done swallowing that awfully bland sustenance they call food. Let's see what else is in here…"**

I snort over the comm. system, but they ignore me. I wonder how bland the jerky tasted for them to complain that much.

 **"I found a business card!"**

"Really?! What does it say?"

 **"Dr. W. Sibellius, Biomedical Research and Development, ALT International. I feel like I should know that name, but I can't remember. I know it's important."**

I quickly pull up the Google search once more and type in the name. Immediately I am not rewarded with the results I wish for and is also asking me: Do you mean: Dr. W. Sibelius?

"How do you spell the name?"

 **"S-I-B-E-L-L-I-U-S"**

I corrected my search and the same results popped up. I must have made a noise because they responded concerned.

 **"Nothing?"**

"No, not anything on a W. Sibellius anyways."

 **"What does show?"**

I read to them the results:

"Frauenarzt Dr. Sibelius, from a Wikipedia page but it's all in German. Christian Sibelius, he's listed as a Finnish doctor and a professor of psychiatry. And then there is his brother, Jean Sibelius but he's listed as a cellist. The thing that bothers me though is that these people all spell "Sibelius" with only one "L" not two like it is listed on the card."

They make a sort of humming sound in agreement.

 **"Makes sense. None of them sound familiar to me anyways."**

"Sorry." I feel guilty that I couldn't find any information that could help them.

 **"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You said that first link was completely in German, right?"**

"Yeah, it is."

 **"Maybe this is only available in certain localized servers or something?"**

It makes sense, but… "Didn't the card also say international though?"

 **"Oh, yeah."**

We sit in silence, until Adam fills in again:

 **"Hey, there's some kind of hidden compartment…"**

Shuffling of cloth

 **"Wha- You won't believe this! It's some kind of data-storage unit, sealed in a blood-soaked zip bag. But whose blood is this?"**

"I think its best not to wonder about that."

" **Good idea. I guess there's no way to know whose blood it is… One thing is clear. Someone REALLY wanted this data-storage unit. But why didn't they clean the blood off? Were they in a hurry?"**

There was a loud unidentified noise erupting from the background. Different from the usual sounds of the wind and snow.

 **"Hold on! Can you hear that?"**

"I hear something."

 **"Wait! I know that sound…"**

The noise was cutting in and out of the small speaker on the device. And then suddenly they swore:

 **"Shit! Okay. I don't want to panic… But there's a helicopter in the distance. It's still pretty far away I can barely hear the engines in this howling wind."**

"Could it be rescue? Can you see if there's anything labeled on it?"

 **"It's too far out for me to make any specific details about it. I don't think they can see me anyways. I really only noticed by chance."**

The wind seemed to pick up more around Adams…

 **"Wait something's wrong."**

"What's going on?" It's hostile? It's glowing? It's crashing?

 **"The helicopter is veering wildly back and forth. That's not normal… Either the pilot doesn't know what he's doing or…"**

"Could it be the strong winds?" A loud whirring noise now registers on the speaker. Is it getting closer?

 **"Wait! There's smoke coming from the engines! It's … It's going down!**

The noise is getting louder now. A constant combination of both whirring and humming could now be heard. It was definitely getting closer.

"Adams, get out of there!" I basically shouted into the device. I didn't care if my family came in anymore. But unfortunately to my franticly beating heart, Adams didn't seem to listen or even hear me.

 **"Oh my God!"**

The voice was loud. I could hear more shuffling and the quick crunch of snow and Adams panting. Were they running towards it?

"Adams, you need to take cover if it's coming your way!" They weren't listening. They were gasping for breath at this point. The sounds becoming more frantic by the second.

"Adams-"but they cuts me off with a loud almost guttural scream out towards the rapidly unseen falling helicopter:

 **"No!"**

Boom. Grunt. Crash. Yell. Then everything goes silent.

"Adams?" I stare at the screen. My heart is in my throat and my fingers clench around my only connection to them. "Adams are you there? Are you okay?" My voice trembled reflecting my emotions. Then the device beeped and I didn't know what to feel anymore.

 **[Adams is busy]**


End file.
